The Face of Death

'Why?' Alan asks, and then answers his own question. 'Because of the scarring on the feet.'

'Correct.'

I consider this. 'Callie, did you find anything going through the Langstrom house that might be helpful?'

'I spent a very long day and night there with Gene. We found lots of dust, but nothing forensically probative. The antidepressants Linda Langstrom had weren't prescribed by the family physician, but by a physician located on the other side of town.'

'She went out of her way to hide them,' I note.

'Yes. But she never took any of them.'

I frown. 'Does that mean anything to anyone?'

No one replies.

'James? News about the boy's computer?'

'No.'

I think, trying to come up with some magic. Nothing.

'Our most potent avenue of inquiry, then, is the trust.' I relate my conversation with Ellen. 'We need that subpoena. Today.'

'Cathy Jones can do that for you,' AD Jones says. 'She should be able to testify that the Langstroms were probably murdered by a third party. That's a priority.' He tosses his cup in the trash can and heads toward the door. 'Keep me apprised.' He stops, looks back. 'Oh and, Smoky? Catch this guy, will you? I prefer to stay breathing.'

'You heard the man,' I say. 'Callie and Alan, that goes to you guys. James, I want you to find out what, if anything, has happened to the two other names on that list. Stern and Gonzalez.'

Everyone gets into motion, hunters with the scent.

48

'ROBERTO GONZALEZ WAS MURDERED IN HIS HOME IN 1997,' James intones. 'He was tortured, castrated, and his genitals were placed in his mouth.'

'Sounds like the description he gave of the 'student of philosophy,' ' I murmur. 'What else?'

'Stern appears to be alive and well. I alerted the Crisis Management Unit, they're going to get in touch with the Israeli authorities and put him under guard.'

'I agree with your theory about AD Jones--but why Stern? Why'd he get to live?'

James shrugs. 'It could be purely geographic. Too far away, so get to him last.'

'Maybe.' I chew on my lower lip. 'You know,' I say, 'there's another avenue we haven't even looked at.'

'What's that?'

' 'Mr. You Know Who.' The guy Vargas mentioned in his video clip. I'm assuming he's supposed to be the man-in-charge. Wouldn't he be a prime target for The Stranger?'

'We should leave that alone for now.'

'Why?'

'Because it's a question that may never get answered. They didn't find him in 1979 with a task force. Why should we think that we'll find him today?'

'For one thing, we're not corrupt.'

He shakes his head. 'That's beside the point. Yes, I think he was tipped off back then, and yes, I believe someone protected him, or at least his interests. But I don't think it was a big conspiracy, not at the law- enforcement level. It's hard enough to corrupt a cop, no matter what the public at large thinks. It's even harder to get a cop, or an agent, to get into bed with a child trafficker. No. This was the work of one person on that task force, two at the most.'

'Walker?'

'He's the likely suspect. The thing that bothers me, though, is the fact that the whole network just seemed to disappear. It's as if it rolled itself up overnight. No more kids with scars on their feet. That bothers me.'

'Why? The bad guys were being cautious.'

'No. Cautious is what they were already doing. Having someone on the inside. Cautious would be finding a new pipeline and a new market. Closing shop altogether? Criminals get smarter, they don't just give up on their business.'

'That's not our concern. For all we know, they never stopped. Maybe they just got smarter, or moved their business elsewhere. Hell, sexual tourism has been growing for years--maybe they set up shop in their home country and got rid of the risk altogether.'

James shrugs, but I know this doesn't satisfy him. He's a puzzlesolver. He doesn't like unanswered questions, whether they're relevant to our investigation or not.

'He's not a sibling, you know,' James says.

The Stranger, he means.

'I know. It's all too personal for that. He experienced something bad, he didn't just observe it happening to a relative.'

'Something still bothers me about the diary, as well,' he says. I study him. 'Any insight?'

'Not yet.'

My cell rings.

'We have a written statement from Cathy Jones,' Callie tells me.

'We're on our way back.'

'Great work, Callie.'

She sniffs. 'Did you expect any less?'

I smile. 'Bring it to me and then we're going to shoot it straight to Ellen.'

'We'll see you in twenty minutes.'

A rush of adrenaline shoots through me, strong and sudden. It leaves me feeling energized and a little bit shaky, as though everything is outlined in a bright nimbus of light.

Here it is, I realize.

'We're going to be getting our subpoena,' I tell James.

'Remember what we talked about.'

'I haven't forgotten.'

I know what James is saying. Examine every conclusion. We're still walking on the path he laid for us.

49

EVERYONE IS GOING. ALAN, CALLIE, JAMES, ME. WE HAVE THE subpoena and we're on our way to see Gibbs.

There's an excitement, a kind of electricity in the air. We've been forced, to a great degree, to sit back and suck it up. The whole story, mile after mile of it, a horror show. We've watched Sarah and others suffer in our mind's eye.

Now we could be an hour away from finding out who he is. It doesn't matter, at this moment, that he's led us here. We want to see his face.

We exit the elevator into the lobby and I see Tommy standing at reception, a phone in his hand. He sees me and waves.

'Give me a sec,' I tell the others.

'Hurry up,' James retorts.

'Hey,' Tommy says as I approach. 'I wanted to make sure you got hooked up with Kirby. Find out if that worked.'

I grin at him. 'She's interesting for sure. I--'

I hear a clicking metallic sound that I can't place. I want to dismiss it but something starts shouting inside my head and tells me I'd better not, better not, better not--

I turn, alarmed, and my eyes find a grim-looking, hard-faced Hispanic man standing just inside the lobby. He looks at me, I'm sure he sees me, he turns away--

'Tommy,' I murmur, my hand going toward my gun.